


Unlatched

by CaveFelem



Category: Rush (2013)
Genre: Almost Has a Plot, Hand Jobs, Hotel Sex, M/M, Resolved Sexual Tension, Rivalry, Sexual Frustration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-26
Updated: 2013-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-30 13:30:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1019196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaveFelem/pseuds/CaveFelem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"A shitty thing to do, you said, to mess with your concentration, and then you turn right around and do the same thing to me."</p><p>Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/997581">Through That Door</a>. Can be read on its own, but will probably make more sense if you've read that one first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unlatched

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This story is about the characters as portrayed in the movie Rush. It's not an attempt to claim that any of this happened in real life, apart from those background details of the 1975 season which are historically correct.
> 
> Thanks to the wonderful detentionlevel for beta and encouragement.

James excels at many things, but stealth has never been one of them. Somehow he always manages to make noise, attract attention, or get a small crowd gravitating to his easy smiles and his party guy reputation. He knows this, and it has never bothered him before.

Now, though, it means that his quarry can hear his approach a mile away, and it makes his namesake activity well near impossible.

The most he has seen of Niki since passing through France and collecting his points has been the day he arrived at Silverstone, a glimpse through a wall of Ferrari mechanics. He tried to get closer then ─ just to banter as usual, to convince himself that things _were_ as usual between them ─ but was detained for three minutes by some useless media person wanting to know something equally useless, and by the time he got to where Niki had been, the slippery rat had slipped and vanished.

He ambushes all the obvious places at the most likely times. He probably smokes twice his usual amount of cigarettes, props in his nonchalant loitering act. He even goes on a morning walk to check out the new chicane at Woodcote Corner, because that's the sort of thing Niki would do. All his trouble earns him precisely zero sightings of Niki. 

It can only mean that Niki knows what James is doing and is avoiding him on purpose.

*

At around six in the evening there's a knock on James's door. Impeccable timing, as if whoever is there calculated it to annoy James. Fresh from the shower, he hasn't bothered to put clothes on when a towel wrapped around his waist will do, and his bare feet still leave temporary moist prints on the floor.

"Wrong room", he yells. "I haven't ordered anything."

The answering voice is muffled beyond recognition by what passes for soundproofing here, but the message is unmistakable. 

"Open up, stupid. It's me."

James forces himself to count to twenty (or fifteen, or at least ten) before responding. It won't do to seem like he's eager.

That comes to nothing as he opens the door and Niki's eyebrows shoot up at the sight of his half-naked rival. He doesn't comment on it, however, or attempt to be considerate and ask if it's a bad time and if he should come back later. He simply walks in to James's room and helps himself to a seat. James remains standing and trying to glare.

"So what is it?" Niki is Niki and goes straight to the point. "Clay says you hung around our paddock all day like a lost kid. Is there something you want?"

 _Yes, and you bloody well know what it is._ Aloud, he says, somewhat lamely, "Haven't seen you around very much."

"Some of us are busy." There's that smugness again, chafing at James's skin like sandpaper. "There is a race coming up. Maybe you have noticed."

"Yeah, I've noticed many things. Such as you being a ─ a pretentious hypocrite, that's what you are, aren't you?" He realises he's started to pace back and forth and leans against the wall opposite to Niki instead, thumping his fist on his thigh. "A shitty thing to do, you said, to mess with your concentration, and then you turn right around and do the same thing to me. The exact same thing."

"What are you talking about? I am not the one throwing stoned girls at you. So what exactly have I done?"

James knows a trap when he sees it.

"I'm not going to say it, if that's what you're after. Forget it. I don't care." He does, down to the marrow of his bones, but he'll never give in so easily. Not to anyone, but especially not to Niki. 

(Why can't this be as wonderfully uncomplicated as with women? Me James, you Jane, I want it, what about you? Nine times out of ten, it works.)

"Fine." Niki's face betrays nothing. He rises and makes as if he's leaving; but the way out goes past James, and James is not about to let him go so easily.

"Wait."

Niki stops. Right in front of James, studying him with apparent calm. James stares back openly, half defiant, half desperate.

He wants to hate Niki so much. The wanting churns hotly inside him, he wants to hate those damn sharp eyes and those damn buck teeth and that damn tongue that was so slick and nimble the memory still sets off an ache. He wants to hate. He wants.

"You fucking bastard", he says, because there are no adequate words for any part of what's going on.

"What did you say?" Niki tilts his head. "I think I heard 'fuck me, you bastard.'"

James forgets to breathe and to hate. He spreads his arms, and Niki hits him like a hurricane, just like the last time but infinitely better. The whole of James's skin is on fire; if he could always feel like this, he'd never wear clothes.

He slides down the wall a few inches and braces himself against it, is grateful for the grip his soles have of the glossy laminate, and _finally_ he gets to mold his hips to Niki's. His cock is aching for friction against Niki's dark denim and what's underneath. 

"Niki, oh hell, Niki." He is trying to say something more besides that, really he is, but just the sound of Niki's name, hearing it spoken in his own lust-raspy voice, drives a spike of desire through him and makes him lose the rest of the words. _You only think with your prick_ , Suzy sniped at him once, and he protested back then, but right now ─

Niki's right hand grips his hip through the terrycloth, hard, for leverage. His assertiveness goes right into James's bloodstream, faster and better than cocaine. James has been with plenty of women who know what they want and have no more qualms than he about taking it, but this is _Niki_. This is someone who's a match, and more than a match, for James in those parts of his life that really matter. 

In this, too, it seems. Who knew the little rat had it in him?

James reaches out to undo Niki's belt and buttons, because now all those clothes are too much, but Niki swats his hands aside and does it himself, certainly more efficiently than James could have managed to. He's wearing plain white cotton underwear and is incredibly hard underneath it.

"This must go", Niki states and gives James's towel a sharp tug. The tucked-in edge holding the whole thing up comes loose with gleeful ease, and then Niki has James's cock in his hand, skin against skin and nothing in between.

On the first stroke, James knows with absolute, knee-weakening certainty he can't last for long.

"Don't be selfish." Niki's breath is quick and uneven now, which takes the sting off his usual haughty tone. "At least return the favour."

Either he isn't in the mood for lengthy foreplay, or it's just the way he always is. (For one whole second, James feels a little sorry for Marlene.) That cutting laser intensity, fully focused on perfection when working on the car and on winning when on the track, is now intent on a fast and hard climax for two and cares little or none of anything else. 

Fortunately it's exactly what James needs, what he's needed for the past week or so. It's what he's been thinking of while fucking Suzy (once, before she left for New York or San Francisco or somewhere else again), while fucking his own hand, while trying to sleep or exercise or perform life-as-usual. Wanting Niki, _having_ Niki, so he can get past this obsession and so Niki can't destroy James's sanity a little bit every day. Yes, he's been thinking of precisely this.

So it is needless for Niki to reach for James's arm to reinforce the message; James is on the case as soon as the words are out of Niki's mouth, because it's not fair that he's the only one coming undone. A badly stifled noise, an almost-moan, escapes Niki when James palms him through his underwear. The angle is strange, he's never touched another man like this, but hell, if it feels half as good to Niki as Niki's hand working him does... He glances down between them and sees fingers curled around swollen cocks, his own slick and red and Niki's making a wet patch on the cotton, and it's almost enough to push him over the edge.

 _Not yet. Not before Niki._ He squeezes his eyes shut and thinks of mud puddles, greasy chips gone cold, No Sex Please We're British. His own hands are not cooperating with the rest of him, though, because they grope blindly at Niki and manage to pull his underpants down. He might not see, but he hears the sharp intake of breath from Niki and feels both the pulse in Niki's veins and the quickening of Niki's strokes in answer.

James wants to last, but it's hopeless. He comes with shattering force, teeth gritted together so he won't cry out any names, all over himself and Niki's hand in a glorious mess.

He has often found that sex does more to him than merely relaxes. It unlocks latches in him. He hadn't expected it to do so with Niki, but it's worked its own alchemy without asking for his opinion. All he needs is a proper orgasm, and everything feels fine and golden and uncomplicated. Even this.

"Now you", he husks and maneuvres his free hand around Niki's back to pull their bodies together. The feel of Niki grinding and slipping against his stomach, spreading the whole hot liquid mess all over, is incredible. Inhibitions gone, James licks a stripe up the side of Niki's neck, all the way up to the soft tip of the earlobe, which he catches skilfully between his lips and begins to tease with his tongue and teeth.

Niki makes a strangled sound, his entire body goes tense, and then he's either praising James to high heaven or wishing him a quick trip to hell in broken bits of German. James holds him as he comes, bites and licks and kisses and croons him through it, until Niki slumps against him all limp and heavy.

"Looks like we both got what we wanted." James tugs at one of the sweaty curls plastered on the back of Niki's neck. "Wish you hadn't made it so difficult."

"─ did not start it", Niki informs James's shoulder. "You did."

"Good thing, too, or I would never have found out what you sound like when I ─ ow! Fucking rat!" Niki has sunk his teeth in James's shoulder, and judging by the way it hurts, there'll be a bruise. 

Judging by the way it rekindles a fire in his groin, he enjoys being bitten by rats. Who knew.

"I don't know about you, but I need another shower", he says and shifts pointedly against Niki. "Join me?"

"I suppose I have no choice", Niki says. "I still have things to do later. There is a race ─"

"─ coming up. Yes, I've noticed. Not yet, though, so shut up."

"Asshole."

"Rat."

It turns out kissing each other quiet can be a competition too.


End file.
